Spring’s blooms may shy from thy demure beauty So the deep ocean’s blue pales in thine eyes. Flaxen hair which does render gold comely. Her silken touch makes envy zepher’s sigh. Jealousy of honey rests in her lips That the bee’s confection should taste as sweet. In her every smile the sun’s warmth doth sit As in her bosom grace and virtue meet. No bronze cast could convey her will or strength. The very semblance of my warm dream. At once near yet softly kept at arm’s length. Her tender visage moving through my dream. Though her countenance may outshine the sun, It is her soul that shines when all is done.